


Apparitions

by femmenoire



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenoire/pseuds/femmenoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The possibilities...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apparitions

His physical limitations rarely caught up with him anymore. And even when he did feel the pain, working with the amputees reminded him that he could have come back from the desert in much worse shape. 

But still his left knee was giving him problems after he’d smashed it into the crash cart a week ago. And his lower back was all pins and needles these days. 

It could have been worse. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve been worse. 

This was quickly becoming his mantra. It ran through his head practically all day and when he was on the graveyard shift he would catch himself saying it out loud. 

Owen was hanging on by a thread. 

***

Her mind was chaos. So she ran. 

It’d started in high school. She was fairly certain that it was ADHD, but her doctor had said otherwise. She printed out a bunch of articles showing that doctors routinely don’t diagnose ADD/ADHD in girls, but all to no avail. No medication that is. 

So Maggie started to run. She’d never trained, but she was happy to note that a brisk jog for a couple of miles was easy. So she pushed herself and ran just a little further each week. The internal competition was enough to clear her mind of the worry and doubt. The accomplishment of adding a few feet and each mile to her daily routine made the fear about the future recede. 

When she was running, she was calm. 

But sometimes a regular, even-paced, jog didn’t cut it. Sometimes her mind needed her body to deplete itself. She needed to expel every toxin and worry and bit of confusion that she imagined clogged her pores. 

Maggie pumped her legs harder, pushing her body faster. Harder. 

***

Technically as head of cardio there was no reason she should be the one to respond to his page. 

Technically as head of cardio there was no reason she should be the one to respond to his page.

Owen wasn’t sure how many times he thought this while setting his patient’s (John Moore, contractor, fell from third story roof) broken arm. 

There was only a slight murmur. Nothing drastic. Nothing that the head of the cardio would bother taking. 

Cristina would have considered it beneath her. Cristina would have sent a resident. Not even her best resident. 

Maggie walked through the curtains. 

There was a sharp pain in Owen’s lower back. 

***

Maggie kept her eyes on her patient. 

There was a slight murmur. Nothing too serious. Nothing she needed to see personally. 

So why had she bothered? 

“Keep him still,” she said dispassionately, to no one in particular. 

Owen grunted. 

Maggie thought she heard something besides the murmur, but she wasn’t sure. 

“Keep him still,” she said again. 

“He’s in pain,” Owen barked. 

For the first time in probably a week Maggie’s eyes met Owen’s. Her jaw set, teeth grinding with every word. “Then give him something for the pain. I need to be sure.”

Owen’s face softened into a look of concern that made Maggie uncomfortable. 

“Of what?”

But she didn’t answer. 

After a few minutes, Maggie’s back straightened. She didn’t look Owen in the eye this time. She addressed her diagnosis to somewhere around his collarbone and left shoulder. 

“When you go in to address the internal bleeding I’d like to be there. There’s a murmur, but there’s... I can’t tell without an echo and I’d like to see for myself.”

Owen’s jaw set. He walked around the gurney, grabbed her arm and pulled her outside the curtains. 

Maggie was too shocked to object at first, but eventually she pulled her arm out of his grasp. “What the hell are you doing?”

“We’re not cutting that man open just so you can...see, Dr. Pierce,” Owen replied sternly. “What is your diagnosis?”

Maggie took the deepest breath she could muster. “I’m not saying we should cut him open for...for sport. I’m saying,” and here she took another deep breath, “that when you open him up to address the internal bleeding I want to assist. I’ll have a diagnosis then.”

And with that, Maggie turned on her heels and marched away. 

Cristina would have fought him, Owen thought as she walked away. Cristina would have fought and argued. Cristina wouldn’t have walked away. 

Maggie was not Cristina. Owen knew this. 

And maybe that was the point. 

***  
Bokie was playing a waltz. 

Owen wanted to tell her that he hated classical. He preferred a bit of classic rock. But he stopped himself. 

“What if Maggie likes this,” he thought. And then wanted to punch himself in the face. 

“Who cares what Maggie likes,” he’d said out loud. Of course, Maggie had been walking right into the scrub room as the words left his lips. 

Her steps faltered only briefly. If Owen hadn’t become attuned to her movements he might have missed it.

She didn’t respond officially.

She exhaled maybe a little louder than necessary. 

“Yea… who cares what I think,” Owen heard her mutter as he reached for a scalpel. He wanted to punch himself in the face. 

***

She was angry. Clearly. 

The murmur was slight, Nothing to be worried about just yet. But careful monitoring over the next few weeks or probably months was necessary.

It was good news. But no one in the operating room could tell. 

Maggie made her final diagnosis and excused herself as quickly as possible.

Owen wanted to run after her, but he wouldn’t do that. 

She’s not Cristina, he thought. So he cauterized the bleed; closed John up; scrubbed out. 

He thought of Maggie the whole time. 

Owen was supposed to be heading to the on-call room to catch a few minutes of sleep. Or maybe he was going to his office to catch up on scheduling. Or maybe he was going to call Cristina. What time is it in Zurich, he thought even though he’d programmed Zurich into his phone’s world clock. Nine hours ahead. Nine hours ahead, Owen thought. He was supposed to be heading towards solitude. 

Instead, he found himself walking into Joe’s. 

Maggie was sitting at the bar. 

“Hunt. HUNT!”

It was Karev. He was drunk. 

Owen walked over to his table. “How many have you had, Karev?” Owen took charge. It made him feel comfortable. It took his mind off of her. At least for a while. 

“A lot,” Alex said with a girlish laugh. 

Owen nodded. “Let’s get you home.”

He struggled to hold Karev up and hail a cab at the same time. Normally Owen would have just taken him, but he was still on call. And then there was Maggie. 

“What about Maggie,” Karev slurred. 

“What,” Owen shouted and cringed. 

“You said Maggie.”

“I...I did?”

“Yea. You totally did. Man… she hates you!”

Owen frowned. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“Yea,” Karev burped, “I know.” 

Owen wanted to ask him what he meant; if Maggie had said something. But he also wanted to turn around and ask her himself. Finally a cab pulled in front of him. 

He gave the cabbie Karev’s address and too much money and then stood ramrod straight watching the car pull away. He considered going back to the hospital. He wondered what the cafeteria was serving so late/early. 

“Chief.” 

The sound of her voice made his jaw clench. 

He turned slightly and took her in.

***  
Maggie watched Owen struggle to lead Karev out of Joe’s. She considered offering her help. And then she remembered: “Who cares what Maggie likes.” 

Maggie wouldn’t have described herself as overly sensitive before coming to Grey-Sloan Memorial, but now she had to wonder. Was it just the circumstances (dead birth mother, new sister, birth father) or had it always been this easy to tear her down? 

No thanks, she muttered to herself. 

“What’d you say hon,” the bartender asked. 

“I said another shot of tequila please!”

She expected him to be gone with Alex. But there he was. Standing erect, his head cocked back so he could consider the sky. 

Maggie wondered. And then she mentally slapped the back of her hand. Who cares what Maggie likes?

Her steps were determined. If she hadn’t said anything he might not have ever noticed she was there. But Maggie had recently developed a habit of saying and doing all the wrong things in Owen’s presence. 

“Chief,” she said, her voice colder than she would have expected. 

He turned towards her. She noticed that out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t slow down to acknowledge him further. 

But she heard him say her name. 

“Maggie.”

She sped up at the sound of her name on his lips. It was soft. Familiar. Intimate. 

She’d have to run for miles to shake the feeling in her chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Music: The Pierces "Believe in Me" and Rebecca Ferguson "Fairytale (Let Me Live My Life This Way)"


End file.
